


but let those few be well tried

by Kells



Series: gifts, requests, and other little bits [17]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Female Steve Rogers, US Presidential Election AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-09-25 05:58:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9806261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kells/pseuds/Kells
Summary: Stark-Rogers 2016: in which Stephanie Rogers has been working towards this election for more than half her life, but with the victory already in sight begins to wonder, for the first time ever, quite what her dreams are going to cost her family.(or: Tony Stark for President! Bucky and son watch and worry, mostly about Stark's running-mate.)





	1. July- general campaign

**Author's Note:**

> pretty much what I'm saying is the Starks are your old-school family of dynastic politicians, Steph is Tony's long-time friend hand-reared practically from childhood to be his number two, and Bucky is the ex-soldier turned academic who never quite asked to be dragged along on this ride.

“Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks, Sam. We’ll see you tonight.”

Stephanie set her phone down with real relief, reaching back to massage the frozen tendons in her neck. She stood unsteadily, heading gingerly for the living room in search of her husband and fresh coffee. She was already picturing Bucky’s smile, quick but surprised because of course he wouldn’t be expecting her to leave her desk until she had to, but just as she reached the stairs her son cleared his throat nervously enough to stop Steph in her tracks.

“Dad? Can I talk to you for a second?”

Steph’s heart clenched at the anxiety in Gary’s voice. He was fine, she told herself- his voice was steady, if hesitant, and his eyes were bright and clear. Not drugs, at least; maybe it was something properly teenage, like girl trouble. Stephanie smiled faintly as her husband set aside his marking to cross the room. He jerked his head once to beckon their son over to the sofa.

“What’s up, G-man?”

Gary didn’t smile, but dropped obediently into the seat next to his father’s.

“You’n mom aren’t thinking about, you know. Separating, or something. Right?”

Stephanie stifled a gasp of protest. She’d lost all feeling in her fingers, she was pretty sure- in all likelihood it would have kept right on going up her arms and straight to her heart if not for the fact that her husband looked just as shocked as she felt.

“Of course not. Why would you even ask that?”

_Because you never talk anymore, except about this bloody campaign._

The thought rose, unbidden and unwanted, like the ghost of Christmas past- and it had come with friends.  _Because she never asks how you’re doing, or even what you’re doing when you’re not out there with them. Because they’re running as Stark-Rogers like she doesn’t even care that she took your name nearly 20 years ago. Because she’s always busy, or tired, or not even there, and god knows there’s no shortage of younger, better-looking women more than willing to give you the time and attention you never get from your wife anymore._

Stephanie raised a hand to swipe at an itch and realized she was crying pretty hard already. On the other side of the wall she could hardly breach  _now_ , her son shrugged helplessly.

“Some reporter said they had proof.”

He smiled a little. “Tasha she’d get his press-pass permanently revoked if he ran the story without your explicit confirmation and a recording to prove it.”

Bucky smirked appreciatively. Stephanie resisted the urge to calculate exactly how much more time Tasha Romanova spent with her husband- and her son- than she did, these days.

“That girl knows whose side she’s on. What’ve we told you about paying attention to those gossip-mongers, huh?”

“He said they saw the papers, though.”

“Well.”

Bucky laid a hand on his son’s shoulder, completely commanding the boy’s attention. “For what it’s worth,  _I_ haven’t seen those papers, or heard one word about them, and unless your mom got a set done up just for decoration I’m pretty sure they're not worth much to anyone before I do.”

Gary breathed out slowly, slumping in his seat as he relaxed.

“That’s good. I mean, I  _thought_  that, but-”

Bucky leaned over and kissed the kid’s forehead with a casual tenderness Steph couldn’t help but envy. Gary still submitted to be kissed from time to time, but rarely leaned into any show of affection with such palpable gratitude as he was showing then. His father smiled warmly.

“Don’t let them get you down, okay? I love you, little boy Barnes, and your mother too.”

“Cool.”

Their boy was grinning now, relaxed enough to tease right back. “You know I’m going to be seventeen next year, right?”

Bucky dragged his son into a headlock that was mostly a hug.

“Hush your mouth, you’ll still be my little boy when you’re turning 57 and I’m old and grey with bionic legs and electronic teeth.”

Gary tilted his head, distracted from his own escape attempt.

“How would electronic teeth even work?”

His father shrugged, letting him up without a struggle.

“Damned if I know. I’m not going to invent them, I’ll just get some if they work.”

His son blinked owlishly, still leaning comfortably into his dad.

“You’re such a dork sometimes.”

Bucky seemed to understand that it wasn’t really a criticism.

“Are you just noticing that now?”

Gary shook his head, but he was smiling with much more confidence than he’d shown so far. Father and son sat in silence for a moment, Bucky reaching for a book he’d abandoned on the coffee table while Gary checked his phone reflexively.

“You told that guy Lehnsherr you were still thinking about Princeton, though.”

Steph’s shoulders tensed all over again. Bucky hadn’t told her  _that_ \- or even that he’d had anything like that kind of meeting on his calendar. Her husband raised an eyebrow, gently challenging.

“They don’t make people get divorced to teach at Princeton, Gary.”

Their son rolled his eyes, but not particularly scathingly.

“It’s in New Jersey, though.”

Bucky shook his head again. His hair, hardly long enough to move with the motion, was shorter than Steph remembered- glancing between her two boys she realized they must both have got their hair cut since she’d last had time to pay attention.

“They have staff based in Oxford and Tokyo, it would take two minutes to figure something out for DC.”

Her husband was smirking again. “Besides which I mostly said that so he’d keep my name in mind long enough to recognize yours if you still want to apply there next year.”

For a few seconds, Gary just stared. When he smiled, it was nothing short of admiring.

“You can be really sneaky for guy who hated law school so much he went back to history and stayed there for 20 years.”

Steph smiled with her husband- this part she’d heard before. Military history was just politics too, Bucky explained brightly, except that it had happened to other people quite a long time ago so everyone had more interesting names and no one was likely to try and stab anyone in the back where he would have to deal with it personally. 

“On top of which I’ve spent the better part of the last however-long hanging around your mother's friends, so I’ve had some real-life practice too.”

He didn’t  _sound_ like he’d hated every part of that. Gary had latched onto a different part of his father’s brief discourse, though.

“I’m really lucky you guys named me after family, huh.”

Bucky laughed, an absolutely delighted belly-laugh that had his son beaming with pride. It had been a long time, Steph realized abruptly, since she’d heard her husband laugh with such real pleasure.

“I can _see_ you realizing you could have gone through life as Xerxes Napoleon Barnes.”

Gary choked on a sip of water. His father thumped him energetically on the back.

“That’s- so much worse than what I was thinking.”

“What were you thinking?"

“I’m not gonna  _tell_ you.”

The poor kid looked mortified. “Xerxes Na- you don’t even like Napoleon!”

Bucky shrugged nonchalantly.

“Too many X-es in Xerxes Alexander. And there’s no point having anyone who didn’t treat Egypt right, is there, so that rules out all the Romans at once, and somehow I just don’t see Shihuang or Temüjin making any kind of sense for you.”

"But Xerx-"

For a good few seconds, Gary just stared. “Sometimes I can’t with you at all, you know that?”

Bucky clapped his son on the shoulder with real sympathy.

“And sometimes your syntax makes me sad. I guess that’s how it is with family, kid.”

Suddenly, his tone grew deadly serious again. “Listen to me, yeah?”

Their boy nodded mutely.

“There’s gonna be all kinds of people trying to catch your mom out in the next couple of months- the next few years, even, if this goes where we hope it will. But she loves us just as much as we love her, all right, and we’re both of us in this for way more than the next eight years, and if  _any_ part of that ever changes, even a little bit, I promise you you’ll hear it from us and not from some tabloid journalist who has no business bothering you in the first place. All right?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Bucky scowled.

“Don’t thank me for doing my job.”

Unexpectedly, Gary reached out and hugged his father tight.

“I’m just- glad it’s  _your_ job, I guess. You know?”

He didn’t even squirm when Bucky turned to kiss his forehead a second time in the space of one conversation.

“Me too. Every day, G.”

The phone in Steph’s hand vibrated gently. It wasn’t a call- thank goodness- but a reminder she’d programmed herself so she wouldn’t get too caught up in emails or debate prep to get dressed in time for dinner. No coffee, then. No wonder Bucky never expected her to join him anymore.

By the time she was ready, freshly made up and zipped into just the kind of colour-blocked shift dress their focus groups seemed to find both sufficiently energetic to promise real change and traditional enough not to actually alarm the old guard, her husband had not only got into the jacket and tie Tony’s stylist had assigned him but also convinced their son to surrender his playstation controller for a full minute. Gary was in hysterics as Steph came up behind him- he was almost crying with laughter as his father squinted at the screen.

“You could at least put your glasses on.”

“You calling me old, Gareth?”

“No, just blind and bad at this game. Hey, mom.”

Bucky turned at that, whistling through his teeth by way of approving of Steph’s new outfit. She tried- she really did try- not to wonder whether it was for Gary’s benefit or her own.

“Hey, gorgeous girl. You good to go?”

She was, and even if Gary hadn’t been right there between them Bucky had long since grown out of the long-ago game of doing his very best to charm her into skipping official dinners entirely to just stay home with him. She'd only let him win once or twice in maybe twelve years, obviously, but they'd both of them enjoyed every attempt.

“Sure.”

Stephanie bent to kiss her son’s cheek, laughing when he groaned as if she’d slapped him instead of getting lipstick on his face. “Don’t stay up all night, okay?”

He nodded absently, already intent on making up whatever time his dad’s antics had lost him, but paused to grin when Bucky squeezed his shoulder. Steph was still smiling faintly when Bucky shut the door behind them.

“What is it?”

“Nothing. I-“

 _I love you,_  she could have said.  _I couldn’t do any of this without you. I wouldn’t be here, maybe, if you hadn’t been with me right from the start. If you left me I would lose my mind._

“I’m glad you’re here, you know?”

She leaned up and pressed a chaste, photo-worthy kiss to his cheek. “Thanks for coming out with me.”

Her husband smiled, not quite as freely as with their son.

“Sure. Any time, Steph.”

Not  _so_ long ago, she thought, he would have said ‘there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.’   


	2. September- between debates

“Do they think I’m cheating or you?”

Bucky paused with his hands still on his belt, raising his eyes to meet Steph’s gaze in the mirror instead of turning around.

“What?”

Steph waved her hands between them, trying to illustrate the fact of their togetherness.  

“When the tabloids or whoever say we’re splitting up, right- whose fault do they say it is?”

The confused crease between her husband’s brows began to deepen into a real frown.

“Does that matter? At all, to anyone?”

Stephanie broke their reflected eye contact to bend over and shuck off her stockings.  

“Mine, then. With Tony?”

Her husband sighed softly.

“Or Wilson, or Barton- depends on what they’re trying to prove, right? When it’s far-left instead of far-right it’s usually me and some male student I’ve never met because, you know, being Catholic _and_ ex-army means those guys are actively upset about how long it’s taking me to realise I’ve been gay this whole time.”

He sounded wry rather than irritated, taking his time to hang up his shirt and jacket with the tidy precision he hadn’t lost in two decades away from the army. Stephanie smiled in spite of herself, watching his shoulders with the profound appreciation of a woman who would almost certainly have preferred a live drawing class to congressional law if only she hadn’t had a career path in mind from the time she was fourteen. Bucky turned, raising an eyebrow when he found his wife still staring.

“I’m really not,” he assured her dryly. “What else d’you want to know?”  

“It really doesn’t bother you.”

Her husband shrugged with perfect indifference.

“Should it? I knew what I was getting into with you.”

Stephanie sat up so quickly it left her lightheaded.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Her husband’s smile was apologetic, gentling his expression enough for Steph to realize he hadn’t meant to imply any kind of accusation.

“Just that you’re the first woman to have any kind of shot at this job.”

He came to sit by her, smiling a little more widely when Steph reached for one of his hands and clasped it gently between her own. “And that you’re young and you’re gorgeous and you’re smart as all get-out, and of course your running-mate is _Tony Stark._ Whom you’ve known since you were thirteen, whose father was still president when he told everyone he loved you like his own kid, and who still hasn’t dated anyone publicly for more than twenty minutes as far back as anyone can remember- and these guys check the primary sources at least as far back as Lincoln.”

Bucky leaned in when Stephanie chuckled, but kissed her temple instead of her lips. “On top of which this whole campaign would collapse completely if you two ever hooked up, or admitted to having hooked up, or showed any sign of wanting to hook up, so of _course_ everyone wants to break that story if there’s a story to be broken.”

That was her husband, Steph thought- ruefully, admiringly. He just had a way of framing things so they made sense, but in a way Steph would never have arrived at on her own. She squeezed his hand affectionately.   

“You know I never-”

“Of course I know.”

He seemed to know it had to be a kiss on the lips, that time. “Stephanie Stark, country club trophy wife of New York’s rising star? You’d have died of boredom after half an hour, or started some kind of revolution to help the caddies overthrow the golfers.”

Stephanie turned away to tuck her jewellery back into the case on her nightstand.

“That’s sweet. Weirdly specific, but sweet.”

Bucky offered her a lazy kind of grin from the bed.

“Who cares what they think? Even if it were true-”

“Of course it's-”

“I’m just saying if, Steph. Even if it had ever been true, which it hasn’t- as long as you’re with me _now_ , and you want to be here and I want to be here, why should either of us give one damn what it looks like from outside?”

That, she had to admit, sounded like a fair point.

“Thanks,” she murmured, kissing his forehead before turning away from him. “Here, could you-”

He already had one hand at her waist.

“With pleasure.”

His breath on her neck made her shiver. Bucky laughed, making quick work of the zip only to follow its path with his lips. “For you too, maybe.”

Steph let her eyes drift shut, reaching back to touch his hair as he stood up to complete the route he had been tracing up towards her neck.

“Ignore those idiots, Steph, okay?”

He’d reached her jaw by then, kissing her open-mouthed and grinning against her skin when she gasped as he found a favourite spot. “You and I know how it is with us.”

He was on the point of tugging her closer, and she was on the point of turning to kiss him like she hadn’t in weeks or months, when her phone vibrated just sharply enough to throw them both off. Bucky went still, sighing against Steph’s cheek as the staccato announcement of about twelve messages arriving in short succession made it clear who was trying to get in touch. For a good few seconds Steph was sorely tempted to turn the damn thing off- but Tony _was_ her boss, and her friend, and arguably the most important of his three debates was less than a day away.

“I should call him.”

“Sure.”

He nodded once. “Yeah. Should I-”

He waited for her to nod before zipping her deftly back into her dress and stepping away. The loss of his hands made Steph shiver.

“I’ll get out of your way.”

He kissed her forehead, snagged a hoodie from the cupboard, and was gone.

By the time Steph got off the phone it was almost an hour later, and her husband and son were bent together over an essay Gary seemed to be fine-tuning for school. Bucky was reading over their son’s shoulder, offering occasional suggestions but mostly exclaiming his approval, and Gary was all but literally glowing in the light of his father’s praise. It would never even have occurred to him to show Steph a work in progress, she realized with a pang- Gary must have been eight or nine the last time they’d spent time on his schoolwork together. He still told her what he got up to at school, or Bucky did, and every so often one or the other of them would press something into her hands for her inspection, but if Gary ever wanted _help_ of course he’d go to the parent who had crafted his whole career around the needs of their small family rather than the one neither of them saw enough.

“Hey. All good on Planet Stark?”

Gary looked up when his father spoke, so that Steph found herself transfixed by two sets of curious silver-grey eyes. She nodded, smiling as brightly as she could without faking it.

“Just some last minute adjustments.”

She swung the bag into which she’d thrust a few essentials to bring it to their attention. “I’m gonna go over there, you know what he’s like close to deadline.”

If she didn’t, she meant, Tony would only end up calling every seven minutes until morning anyway. Bucky nodded readily enough.

“Y’want me to run you over?”

“It’s so late already. Happy’s on his way.”

Gary clicked his tongue, grinning to himself.

“Still better than Xerxes Napoleon.”

Bucky turned to raise a sardonic brow.

“Is it really, though?”

They had the same grin, Steph had often thought. Thank God they had each other, she thought for the first time. She reached out intending to take her husband’s hand, but then changed her mind and touched his cheek instead.

“I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

“Sure.”

His face hardly changed, but Steph knew she’d disappointed him. “G’night, Stephanie.”

He cuffed his son gently about the head.

“Yeah,” Gary murmured obediently. “Night, mom. See ya tomorrow.”

She glanced back from the doorway to find her boys already back at work- and herself struck dumb by a terrible, utterly unbidden vision of the two of them on their own, free to live on their own schedule in Brooklyn or Princeton or London or Tokyo instead of staying tethered to DC by the career of a woman they almost never saw except onstage. Steph found a smile for Happy, but spent most of the trip fighting tears. She sent an unusually needy ‘good night, I love you’ text message and felt at least a little reassured when she received three pink hearts and a crescent moon in response. It was fine, she knew; it was adorable, even- but it wasn’t what he’d hoped for that night, at all, and as she thought about it Steph realized abruptly that what he’d meant to offer by driving her himself was another half hour they could have had alone together. With careful determination, she avoided thinking at all about the fact that Tasha Romanova, for her part, would be alone with her boys all night, now.

“Hey.”

Tony, damn him, was as sharp as ever. “You okay?”

Steph nodded jerkily.

“Fine. Missing my husband, if that makes any sense.”

She was half expecting some off-colour comment about how they weren’t newlyweds anymore and should be over each other by now, but Tony just smiled sympathetically.

“Hang in there, Rogers. It’s just a few months more, okay?”

A few months more, and then four years, and then four more years if things went well- and he’d been clear enough with Gary, hadn’t he, in that conversation she hadn't been meant to overhear- but who knew how long Bucky would be willing to stick around once Steph got even busier, and then Gary left for college-

“A few more weeks,” she agreed firmly, ignoring the gunpowder tang it left in her mouth. “My name is Stephanie Barnes and you know it.”

Tony laughed, not unkindly.  

“Maybe in Brooklyn they still call you that.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Hang in there,” Steph heard her husband whisper to their son from close behind her. “Just this last one and then we’re golden.”

She turned her head without moving her shoulders so she could see Gary’s tired smile.

“You think?”

Bucky’s expression was deadly serious.

“Anyone else starts talking after Stark, we go anyway. You grab your mom, I’ll hotwire Barton’s SUV, and straight on ‘til morning.”

Gary tilted his head, inquisitive, but he didn’t ask why Bucky thought they would be driving to Neverland.

“Why Barton’s?”

His father shrugged.

“Tasha would kick my ass if I messed with her car.”

Steph forced her eyes forward, clapping dutifully as Tony stepped up to the podium. She was his running-mate, after all, and had to pay attention; it had nothing whatsoever to do with any desire to avoid witnessing the undisguised affection with which father and son had both been grinning at Agent Romanova. Steph was still clapping, lips turned up in a smile she hoped looked more practiced than actually false, when a man in dark glasses threw himself at Tony with a knife in his hand that was at least as long as his arm.

The descent into chaos was swift and sure. A cry went up as Rhodey dragged Tony back- startled but unharmed, not that anyone on the other side of their massing security could be sure of that- and the others moved to clear the stage at speed.

“We’re okay,” Bucky murmured. He’d caught Steph’s elbow firmly, but his eyes were still locked on their son’s. “Stay with Tasha for me, okay? I’ve got your mom.”

He grinned his approval when Gary nodded obediently, falling into step with Tasha as she set about sweeping him out of sight.     

“That’s good. We’re right-”

His reassurances were drowned out by the new cacophony rising up around them. For a moment they could only hear the mingled outcry from beyond the stage- then Natasha’s voice sliced through the commotion.

“Barton, on your-”

Bucky’s head snapped sideways; he never even waited for her to finish, but dragged Steph into a defensive crouch apparently in response to the angle of Natasha’s head.  

“I love you.”

He was all but pinning her to the stage. “You tell- tell our boy.” 

Steph nodded, responding to the ragged urgency in his voice rather than the words she hadn’t fully grasped. She moved instinctively to support her husband as he fell against her, but only really understood what he’d done when the second shot rang out. Her hand, still at his waist, came away warm and slick. 

“No! James-”

His grip on her arms had begun to slacken; his fading voice was audible only because his lips were inches from her ear.

“’m sorry. Love you.”

“Hush,” Steph whispered, knowing without really knowing how she knew that it was imperative to keep him still and calm. No one else was either of those things- the clamour around them would have been unbearable if Steph’s whole worldview hadn’t already narrowed to the shallow breathing dampening her neck- and the unsteady heartbeat still thumping somewhere close to hers. They must have got the guy, she thought- there hadn’t been a third shot, at least- as for anything else it was all Steph could do to keep up her quiet, falsely calm litany of love and reassurance. She had no way to know whether Bucky could hear her, even, but to stop before someone made her would have felt far too much like giving up. “You hang on for me, understand? I love you, James Barnes, I mean that.”

His only answer was another dragging gasp. Steph turned her face and kissed his too-still cheek. She very nearly screamed when gloved hands closed over hers, urging her gently to disengage.

“Don’t! I won’t-”

“Steph.”

Sam was kneeling next to her, pale and tense but as unflappable as ever. “We need to get this guy to a doctor, okay?”

That- sounded right, anyway.  Steph nodded, but wasn’t at all prepared for the way her whole body clenched in protest when the men in masks and gloves lifted her husband clean out of her arms.

“Bucky, _Christ_ -”

Sam hugged her close, tugging her upright even though it meant he had to do all the work of keeping her there.

“It’s all right. They’re looking after him, Steph. We’ve got this.”

They were working at a frantic pace, two of them hovering over him as another two bundled the lot of them into an ambulance.  

“Wait,” Steph muttered as they moved to close the doors. “Wait, I have to-”

“You’re with me.”

Sam was already urging her steadily towards one of their armoured cars. “We’ll go with them, same convoy and everything. They’ll have the space they need to work and I promise you we’ll never be more than five feet away.”

Five feet away sounded like five too many, but he hadn’t framed it as a question.

“Where’s Gary?”

Bucky would have asked much sooner. “Sam, where’s my-“

“Tasha’s got him. They’ll meet us at the hospital. He’s fine, I promise.”

He couldn’t be any kind of fine- Steph wasn’t sure how much he could have seen himself but he’d know everything by now. Bucky would never, never have left their boy on his own.

“Hurry,” she whispered, staring down at her hands. They were still streaked dark with her husband’s blood. “Sam, just- please.”  

By the time they got to the hospital, Clint and his guys had cleared pretty much a whole wing for their exclusive use.

“Steph,” he breathed, reaching out to her- but then fell silent, letting his arm drop as his jaw clenched. Steph put her arms around his neck and hung on.

“Don’t. You got the bastard, right? Everyone else’s safe because of you.”

He nodded stiffly; she kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

If there was more to say right then she didn’t know what it was. They stood in silence for a moment, each wrestling with a different set of things they couldn’t say out loud. Sam cleared his throat, fingers brushing the inside of Steph’s forearm. She fought the urge to jerk away.

“You wanna get changed? Tasha’s on her way with your Gary.”

She could not, _could not,_ go to her son still covered in his father’s blood.

The bag Tasha had somehow thought to send with Clint was half Steph’s clothes and half Bucky’s, a relic of that earlier time when she’d sometimes finished work early enough to make a tennis date before either of them was too tired to hit straight. Steph got changed mostly on autopilot, and only realised when she glanced reflexively at the mirror that she’d picked Bucky’s ancient, over-large hoodie over her own sweater. She washed her hands again, and then again. By the time she came back out they’d put on the news, and _were_ the news- Clint was watching, absolutely stone-faced, as a faintly awed reporter explained over a slow-motion replay how James Barnes had saved his wife without so much as a second thought.

“Is that what he did?”

She touched Clint’s arm as both men turned to look at her, concerned and faintly guilty at the same time. “Did he know- I mean-”

“- the same blood type, right?”

Steph spun on her heel, drawn as if by some external force towards her son’s voice. “If he needs-”

Natasha- Tasha Romanova, who intimidated even James Rhodes- kissed Gary’s forehead tenderly.

“I’m sure they have everything he needs, boychik.”

He looked so young, dwarfed by the oversized sweatshirt Tasha must have talked him into as it had become clear that they were all going to be spending the night. His eyes were frantic, his voice quietly insistent.

“But what about- Mom.”

He threw himself at Steph with a kind of desperate sob, clinging to her like he hadn’t done since he’d been half his present age.    

“They were tryin’a kill you,” he whispered. “Mom, they were gonna-“

“Shh, shh.”

There was little to do except hold him close. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

He was so tall now- like his father, but ganglier.

“The other guy had a knife, though. The one who went for Tony. Rhodey knocked him out in like twelve seconds.”

Stephanie nodded, not sure yet what it was he needed. Gary inclined his head as well, speaking in the same low voice.  “Knife woulda been worse, right? Doesn’t usually stick in the spine, they say, so it coulda got him in the lung. Then he’d’ve bled out, probably, before they-”

“Stop.”

Steph caught her son gently by his shoulders, arresting his attention mid-sentence. “Gary, honey, stop. Where’re you even getting this?”

He shrugged under her hands.

“Looked it up. On my phone, in the car.”

“Christ,” Steph muttered, mostly to herself. Her son flinched bodily.

“I’m sorry!”  

His hands came up to cover hers as though he was afraid she was going to pull away. “Don’t be mad. I just- no one would tell me anything, and I- I wanted-”

“Gary.”

He came willingly when she tucked him to her, rocking him gently like a much younger child. “You didn’t do anything wrong, okay? I promise you’re not in trouble.”

He nodded gratefully, leaning into her as he relaxed.

“I love you,” Steph promised, pressing her cheek to his. “Your dad too, Gary, okay?”

“I know.”

When he turned his head to look at her, the devotion in his expression was very nearly religious. “Did _you_ know he meant it like _this_?”


	4. Chapter 4

It was close to dawn by the time Tony found them, Steph still keeping watch in the dark while her son dozed restlessly next to her, his whole frame angled towards the glass paneling that separated them from his father.

“He’s gonna make it,” she offered mechanically, making an effort not to repeat all of the debrief seared verbatim into her mind. “Full recovery, she said.”

Probably, eventually, if they could get him the help he needed- but Tony was already nodding- of course he’d had someone keep him up to speed. Moving with uncharacteristic deliberation, he slipped quietly into the chair on Steph’s other side and hugged her as fiercely as he could without jostling Gary.

“Of course he is- this guy’s way too stubborn to give up on you.”

His expression was determined, and more solemn than Steph had seen her friend in years. “We’ll get him anything he wants, I mean that.”

She found herself glancing away, focusing on her son’s face as she stroked his cheek absently. Next to her, Tony gave a quiet, not quite defeated sigh.

“Look, Steph-”

“You’re wrong.”

Half of the reason Steph was the only one really qualified to do her present job was that she was the only one apart from Rhodey who ever even came close to guessing where Tony’s next wild leap of logic was going to take them. “Of course it’s on me- he’d never have thought about leaving New York again if I hadn’t-”

‘Talked him into it,’ she’d been about to say- but it was only right then, watching him breathe mostly for fear that he’d stop if she took anything for granted ever again, that Steph realised they hadn’t really ever had that discussion.

“Don’t do this,” Tony muttered, almost too softly to be heard. “I can’t do this without you, Stephanie.”

“I’m sorry.”

His hand brushed her wrist; Steph caught it and held it tight. “I’m so sorry, Tony.”

She hadn’t taken her eyes off her husband yet.

“I have to put him first for once, you know?”

Tony’s grip on her hand was crushing, but when he spoke again he managed to keep his voice light.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, all right, but it’s not my impression that he’s ever wanted that.”

Of course he wanted that, though- surely everyone wanted to come first with the person who claimed to love them? And of course he _deserved_ it, and so much more, whether he’d spared a thought for whether he wanted it or not.

“Tony-”

“I’m not asking you to make a decision tonight, I’m saying don’t do anything we can’t take back before you’ve had at least four hours’ sleep.”

Stephanie scowled.

“Says you.”  

Tony’s grin was bright even in the darkened room.  

“I’m running for President, insomnia’s practically a job requirement. VP’s the one who’s supposed to get enough rest to take over when I burn out.”

Steph cocked her head, fighting a smile for the first time in what felt like weeks.

“That’s- not how that works at all, Tony.”

He squeezed her hand, his eyes warm.

“Maybe talk to him first this time, huh?”

That was a low blow, Steph thought, and yet-

“I’ll think about it.”

Tony let go of her hand to pull her into another quick embrace.

“That’s all I ask.”

He kissed her forehead before she could retort, flailed an arm in Gary’s direction as if he’d been about to pet the kid’s hair and then thought better of it, and disappeared in a flurry of promises. Steph caught something about having Bruce come by in the morning, and something else about bagels with butter, but it was more than she was up to to make sense of Tony at five in the morning after the night they’d had.

Restless now, she gave her son’s cheek a gentle pat, mentally promising that she wouldn’t be gone too long, and slipped quietly into the other room. The attendant nurse, two-thirds asleep in the corner, jerked to his feet without comment. Steph had meant to wave him off so she could hold her husband’s hand for a minute- but he was so still, and still so pale, and all of a sudden she couldn’t bear how much like a wake it all looked while he was on his own like that.

“Can I-”

“Of course. Ma’am.”

He helped her navigate the web of tubes and wires keeping Bucky’s condition stable, grinning at her with real, strikingly youthful triumph once she was curled carefully around her husband. “I’ll give you some time with him.”

“Stupid boy,” she whispered as soon as they were alone. “You’re such an idiot, I can’t _believe_ you’d-”

But she could- of course she could. Mindful of his injuries, she caught his near hand and raised it carefully to her lips. “Crazy goddamn martyr. Don’t you _dare_ quit on me, understand?”

He didn’t answer, but he was safe and warm and really, truly, on the mend, which was so much more than she’d dared to think they could have again when he’d been wrenched away from her like that. Steph closed her eyes, thinking vaguely of several prayers at once without really making an effort to pick one to focus on. She’d had no intention of falling asleep, but the next thing she knew her son was standing over her, wide-eyed with concern.

“Mom? What’s wrong? Is he-”

“We’re okay,” Steph promised, grabbing his hand. “Everything’s fine, G.”

He nodded, relaxing visibly, but surprised her by reclaiming his hand so he could take one of his father’s firmly in his own.

“Wake up,” Gary ordered in a startling approximation of Bucky’s teaching voice. “If you don’t fix this soon Norman Osborne’s gonna be president, and you’n I’ll both know it was your fault for making Mom quit.”

Apparently he hadn’t been as deeply asleep as Steph had hoped.  

“Gary-”

He looked at her with more entreaty in his eyes- so like his father’s- than Tony ever had.

“You can’t. You have to- I mean- Mom, please don’t give up because of this.”

He took a breath, but before she could think of answering went on in the same near-frantic tone. “I’ll help. He won’t be on his own even when you have to go deal with things. We’ve been looking at Georgetown anyway, or- I don’t _have_ to go to college right away, if he-”

“He would kill us both,” Steph murmured, smiling gently as she levered herself carefully into a sitting position. “And Tony, probably.”

Her son put his arms around her before she had to suggest it.

“You didn’t see his face,” he whispered, hugging Steph tighter when she breathed in sharply. “I saw him decide, you know?”

He’d been on Bucky’s other side by then, Tasha having hustled him offstage in seconds.

“He knew Clint wasn’t gonna have time, right, so he just- got there first. Like it was easy. Like it was nothing, long’s it wasn’t you.”

He was trembling again, shuddering in his mother’s arms as he fought back tears at the thought of it. Steph pressed him closer, kissing his cheek and then his crown.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“No, I’m glad I know.”

Gary pulled away to look at her, arms waving as he struggled to find the words he wanted.

“He talks like that all the time, right? Like at that last debate, when you were crushing it- he turned round and said ‘See, this is why I love your mother more than anything on God’s earth except sometimes you.’ Right there in front of all those reporters and everyone. Or when you wear that dress he likes or make cookies or whatever and he comes out with ‘I love you more than life, Stephie girl, you know that?’ and then you laugh and I yell and he makes like he minds but we all know he’s never gonna stop being a giant dorkface.”    

They were both crying pretty hard, Steph realised as she swiped at her son’s cheek instead of her own.

“‘s your dad.”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

Gary smiled, his voice still choked. “So I’m glad I saw, and I’m glad everyone else will as well, because now we all know he meant every word this whole time.”

He fixed her with another of those earnest expressions, both like and unlike his father’s and so grown up it made Steph’s chest ache.

“But that’s why you can’t quit, y’know? Or else they get exactly what they want, right, because all _he_ wants is for you to get to do this, and everything else you want, and you can’t _do that_ if you let’em scare you now.”

His voice was urgent. “Mom, I don’t think he’ll ever forgive himself if he thinks you gave up because of him.”

There was so much Steph might have said to that- if she’d had any chance at all of saying _anything_ without bursting into tears. Her son let her clutch him close, and didn’t even try to get away when she kissed his cheeks with fervent gratitude.

“When’d you get so wise, huh?”

He shrugged, sweetly shy, and glanced towards his father as if for help.

“Got you guys for parents, something had to rub off.”

Steph squeezed him once more, then let him go.

“Old movies and sesame bagels, I figured. And all those Greek and Roman names.”

“And Persian,” Gary muttered, darkly. He surprised Steph again by leaning in close and kissing her cheek, entirely of his own accord. “It’s gonna be okay. He’s gonna be okay.”

“He better.”

Gary reached past her to pat his father’s too-still arm with gentle bonhomie.

“Hear that? Your Steph says you better.”

He grinned at her then, confident if not exactly carefree. “He’ll do it now, no problem. If it’s for you he’ll always find a way.”


	5. October- in the final weeks

“You’re _sure_ you’re not in any pain.”

Bucky gave a contented, incomprehensible murmur of denial, nuzzling Steph’s shoulder reassuringly.

“These guys’ve got me on the _best_ drugs.”

Steph laughed quietly, reveling in the very fact of him- fully conscious, out of danger and, apparently, perfectly at peace staring intently at his own feet with his head on her shoulder and their hands entangled in her lap.

“What, J?”

He smiled faintly.

“If I concentrate _really_ hard I can almost feel some of my toes.”

Steph turned her head to kiss his hair.

“We’ll get there, I promise.”

Her husband nodded, still smiling, and closed his eyes without comment. They were quiet for a while, leaning comfortably into each other without really saying much- until Steph blurted out a question that  had been weighing on her mind for weeks.  

“Would you rather be in Brooklyn for this next bit?”

“What?”

Bucky sat up straighter, pulling away to look at her. Suddenly self-conscious, Steph let her gaze skitter away towards the small army of get-well cards already overwhelming the hospital furniture.

“You know, get back on your feet at home instead of out here with those vultures circling and Tony barging in every thirty seconds.”

Steph hadn’t articulated it out loud yet, but once she had it sounded like bliss. She couldn’t even remember the last time they’d woken up in their own bed- really theirs, at _home-_ or had breakfast together without six phone calls or Sam or Tony showing up halfway. Bucky seemed less enraptured by the idea, though- when Steph looked over it was to find him watching her with muted apprehension in his eyes.

“And- you’d come with, you mean?”

“Of course.”

She had to choke the words out, fighting to breathe through the crushing pressure on her ribs. “Bucky, for god’s sake-”

“Hey, I didn’t-”

She dragged him to her, urgent but also still so aware of his injuries.  

“Of course I’m not sending you away. I wouldn’t- I won’t _ever-_ I felt like I was gonna die.”

Bucky tensed around her.  

“I would _never_ have-” 

“I don’t mean that.”

She’d go to her grave with the memory of her husband going limp in her arms, Steph was pretty sure, of those slow, painful breaths against her neck- and of the sledgehammer realization, hours later, that he’d known exactly what he was doing and done it without a second’s hesitation. “If they’d taken you from me God alone knows what would be left, James.”

“The bravest girl in the world,” her husband suggested. “And Gary’s mom who loves him, _and_ the only person on this earth who’s ever got Tony Stark to be quiet for more than seven seconds at a time. Plus Vice President, probably, soon.”

Steph shook her head, raising a restless hand to smooth her husband’s hair mostly as an excuse to touch his face.

“I don’t think I could be any of that without you.”

Bucky frowned, ready to argue, but whatever he saw on her face seemed to change his mind- instead of contradicting her, he just kissed her tenderly.

“Just as well I’m right here, then, huh.”

His expression turned rueful as his eyes flicked briefly past Steph’s shoulder. “More or less.”

“Don’t,” she protested, horrified by the self-reproach on his face. “We’ll get there, okay? Together, I promise. I’m gonna do so much better, Bucky.”  

He squinted at her as if he thought that would help him see his wife’s point.

“How’re you gonna do that?”

Steph had been asking herself that question at least as long as the other, but when it came down to it she didn’t have the words.

“I’ve missed so much.”

She should have been at every keynote address, asked to read every conference paper. He should never have had to handle nearly a decade of parent-teacher meetings on his own- at least half of those without discussion, even, because he never liked to make her feel like she wasn’t doing enough for their family. It wasn’t even about _for_ , though- she’d had weeks to think about it, and to watch the pure devotion with which her son held on to his father’s hand like he could _be_ the lifeline keeping Bucky in the world with them. “I’ve missed _you_ so much. Both of you.”

He had caught her hand again, and was stroking her fingers with his thumb.

“You do such important work, Stephanie.”

“It’s not more important than you.”

She made an effort to relax her grip on him, sucking in a slow, stabilizing breath. “Never, Bucky.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

He _sounded_ like he meant it. “I was only trying to say, even Tony Stark can’t let you be VP from Brooklyn Heights, can he?”

Steph tried to laugh and choked instead; she kissed her husband quickly, urgently, before Bucky could worry any more.

“Doesn’t matter. If you want to go I’ll go.”

He brushed her hair back, tucking some of it carefully behind her ear as he smiled.

“It matters a little. There’s this election in a couple weeks, right- or so your son tells me- and the word on the street is you’re going to win.”

It really did look like that, not least thanks to a late bump Tony was doing his best to persuade Steph was anything but a direct response to the general perception that her husband had so nearly been martyred for their cause.

“I don’t care. If you want to get out of here-”

“I’d like to get out of _here_ ,” Bucky admitted, the jerk of his head indicating primarily the hospital bed to which he was still confined. “But DC’s fine by me as long as it works for you.”

His eyes were gentle, his voice utterly sincere. “I’d never ask you to give this up on my account.”

She knew he wouldn’t _ask._

“I don’t think there’s anything I wouldn’t give up for you.”

Bucky rolled his eyes like an exasperated teenager- like _their_ exasperated teenager, in fact- but mostly his expression was utterly compassionate.

“Not this, though. Not now, not like this, or those bastards get exactly what they wanted.”

He shuddered- but not for any of the reasons that had Steph going stiff with concern next to him. “Thank Christ you’re safe, Stephanie.”

Of course he was still in hospital, facing a convalescence during which he’d have to relearn how to walk, and the thought that left him pale and anxious was of how she _could_ have been hurt. Steph pressed him to her and kissed him as fiercely as she thought he could handle.

“Promise you’ll say if it gets too much.”

He nodded readily.

“We’re gonna make this work, Steph.”

That casual ‘we’ cut right through weeks of doubt and recrimination.

“Bucky,” Steph breathed, strangely overwhelmed- she didn’t remember raising her hands, but suddenly they were at his shoulders, making sure he knew to look at her. “I think there’s something I need to say.”

He nodded, expression solemn.

“Go for it.”

“You’re my whole life,” Steph murmured, watching his eyes so she’d know if he showed signs of doubt. “There’s nothing I’ve ever wanted as much as I want you here with me, Bucky, okay?”

“I’m real glad, Steph.”

He looked faintly bemused, though- Steph swallowed a sob at the thought that he might be waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“There’s no ‘but’ coming,” she insisted, speaking urgently now. “I love you like I never thought I could love anyone, and I should’ve told you every goddamn day. Everything else- _anything_ else, except our boy- is extra, and I’d give it _all_ up for one more day with you.”

It was only natural to surge up and steal a kiss. “I’m so sorry I let you get hurt on my watch, Buck.”

He leaned in so close their foreheads touched.

“If you mean my legs I’ll have you know that was mostly the guy with the goddamn gun, all right?”

He kissed her before she could protest. “And if you mean anything else you’re wrong. I’m fine, and _we’re_ fine, and I have never for one second doubted that you love me like I love you.”

Steph smiled, then kissed him again, then found herself suddenly laughing from the sheer relief of knowing it was true. 

“I really do.”

Her husband smiled tolerantly.

“I know, Stephanie.”

He was holding her hand again, turning it over gently between both of his. “It’s not _your_ fault I get greedy.”

Steph raised an eyebrow.

“Do you?”

“Yeah, you know- start thinking about stealing you away for a bit or smashing your phone with a brick, that kind of thing. So we don’t have to share you with the circus, even when I know damn well it’s your job to play ring-leader.”

It had honestly never occurred to Steph that the hardening of her husband’s expression when Tony showed up unexpectedly might be irritation at _himself._

“It can’t be stealing,” she offered after a second, keeping her voice light. “I’m already yours, remember- we signed those papers nearly twenty years ago.”

Bucky looked perfectly thrilled.

“Clever lawyer girl.”

He kissed her cheek, and then her lips. “Sometimes I forget you spend half your life in a snake pit.”

There was no doubting that he meant it as a compliment. Steph settled comfortably against him, relaxing at last.

“That’s why I let them have Rogers, you know.”

Bucky turned his head, asking with a look what she thought that meant. “For the campaign. So VP Rogers can be the one who has to jump through all their stupid hoops, and Stephanie Barnes can be for us, at home.”

He was quiet long enough to make her nervous- but when she turned her head it was to find him watching her with very nearly awestruck eyes.

“I think that’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”

Of course she kissed him again, and then again. They were still pressed close together, stealing kisses like teenagers, when Tasha knocked sharply on the door.

“Are you decent in there?”

“Tasha! They’re not gonna-”

Bucky’s eyes were mirthful; Steph pressed a finger to his lips so he wouldn’t interrupt Gary’s indignant protest. “I mean- this is a _hospital._ ”

“If you’re wrong about that you’ll be glad we found out on this side of the door.”

There was a brief silence.

“That makes sense.”

“Stop freaking my kid out,” Bucky called, as if he didn’t already have tears of laughter in his eyes. “Get in here already, no one’s naked.”

“That’s not _that_ reassuring,” Gary muttered, but father and son were both grinning by the time he came in. “You look better.”

“This girl’s been holding my hand for at least two hours straight,” Bucky offered, apparently as an explanation. Their son’s grin broadened.

“Go Mom.”

He kissed her cheek in greeting without anyone having to suggest it. “He likes that kinda thing.”

“We already knew he was a sap,” Steph agreed solemnly. Gary nodded, turning to his father as he remembered something he must have stored away to relate when he could.

“Maple syrup is a sap too.”

“Is it?”

Bucky looked genuinely fascinated; his son glowed with pride at having been the one to present that item of trivia.

“NYT crossword says.”

“Must be true, then.”

“Right?”

Gary’s eyes slid lower, tracing the outline of the hospital blankets Steph hadn’t seen him even try to touch yet. “Clint says they’re gonna get you a chair soon.”

“So we’ve been told.”

Gary considered the news in silence, unphased by the weight of his parents’ combined gaze, then nodded again, mostly to himself.

“I’ll push, okay? So you guys can keep holding hands or whatever until they get those bionic legs figured out.”

He yelped, surprised, when Bucky threw his arms around him in a rough, grateful embrace.

“I love you, understand? More than I know how to tell you, Gareth.”

“’s _Gareth_ and everything, huh.”  

“’s how you know I mean it.”

He’d known that all his life, Steph thought, tight-chested with sympathy and pride together as she watched Gary smile through the tears he had no plans to acknowledge.

“Least it’s not Xerxes, I guess.”

“Don’t remind him,” Steph offered, smiling wryly when both her boys looked over curiously. “If anyone can work out how to change that retroactively it’s your dad.”

For a few seconds there was only silence- then Bucky grinned broadly as Gary began to splutter, and suddenly they were entangled in some kind of contained grappling match for Gary’s phone.

“It’s like they don’t realise there are three other cellphones in this room,” Natasha murmured, indicating the one in her own hand. “Barton says Sam's on his way- he wants to know if he should bring you anything from home or the office.”

He probably _should_ , Steph thought, but she shook her head firmly.

“I’ve got everything I need, thanks.”

She hadn’t thought Bucky was in any position to pay attention, at all, but when he caught her eye, their son still laughing breathlessly in his unyielding grip, it was with such pure affection in his eyes that she had to wonder how much he’d heard.


	6. January- fresh starts all round

Steph settled herself gingerly, watching Bucky’s face for signs of distress as he took her weight by degrees.

“You sure you’re okay?”

They spoke at the same time; their son rolled his eyes with the disdain only a late-stage teenager could muster without words.

“Dad,” he barked, taking hold of his father’s wheelchair with a strangely commanding air. “She’s fine- I won’t let her fall even if you somehow forget how your arms work. Mom- he’s fine, I won’t let you maim him even if you somehow forget how your legs work.”

He really did smile like his father.

“I’m fine too, in case anyone was worried, so everybody can relax and look sickening for the pictures, okay?”

Bucky jerked his head to indicatetheir son.

“He’s a good kid really.”

Steph reached up to cover Gary’s hand with hers as she kissed his father’s cheek.

“Of course he is, he’s yours.”

“Not just mine,” her husband grinned. Steph found herself smiling almost slyly.

“I remember, James.”

Gary made a retching noise which was _mostly_ fake.

“Sometimes you guys make me want to lie down in a dark place for a- Dad. Dad, stop it.”

“Too late,” Steph murmured, resting her cheek against Bucky’s shoulder as she watched his eyes grow distant. “He’s already picking fixtures. You want Gothic vaulting or Baroque columns or what?”

In spite of himself, Gary looked intrigued.

“Is this a recreational tomb or are we supposed to use it eventually?”

“Doesn’t have to be a tomb,” Bucky offered, still going over the plans in his head. “It’s your fortress of escaping embarrassing parents-ness.”

Gary nodded quite seriously.

“Got it. Definitely Egyptian-style then. Please.”

His father grinned. 

“Old Kingdom tomb with pyramid texts or New Kingdom temple with statues?”

“Both,” Gary decided. “And that blue lynx-thing from Watchmen.”

His father turned to meet his eyes.

“Good call.”

“Thanks.”

They turned, as one, to look at Steph when she burst out laughing.  

“You’re both ridiculous.”

She squeezed her husband’s shoulder gently. “And we’re awful at this- I’m cutting off your circulation so we can cuddle in front of an audience.”

“I’m not complaining,” Bucky smiled, perfectly content. Gary shook his head.

“It’s your first time ever. You’ll be awesome by your next inauguration.”

Steph tilted her head in question.

“There’s a next inauguration?”

Gary grinned in Tony’s direction; Steph turned in time to watch him dip Pepper with visible relish.

“That guy doesn’t quit.”

He smiled at his father with serene faith. “Or this guy, though, so maybe he’ll be out of this thing by then. You’ll be doing salsa by 2020, anyway, chair or not.”

“There you go,” Bucky murmured, voice rough. “First endorsement for 2020 already in the bag.”  

“I love you,” Steph told them both, meeting her son’s eyes first. She noticed a camera flash and found herself smirking, unexpectedly smug. “I’d like to see those idiots say we’re splitting up now.”

Gary looked faintly alarmed- apparently it hadn’t occurred to him that Steph knew anything about that- but Bucky chuckled softly.

“I’m sure _someone_ thinks this whole thing was really Stark trying to off me so you two can get back together.”

It was so different now she knew he felt perfectly secure, and really was joking without secreted reproach. “And even more people think it was all a set-up to push the gun reform stuff, probably.”

“Buncha morons,” Gary muttered rebelliously. He bent obligingly when Steph strained upwards to kiss his cheek. Bucky steadied her as they wobbled.

“You’re okay.”

“You’re a nut,” Steph retorted; he grinned instead of trying to deny it.

“Can’t you just see it, though? _Jealous Stark drives cheating Rogers back into the arms of estranged_ -“

“We’re _not_ estranged.”

He tucked her hair back behind her ear, lingering for a moment like he couldn’t help enjoying her carefully curated curls with all his senses.

“And you’ve never cheated at anything in your life, let alone on me, and he’s not jealous _or_ trying to kill anyone, and in my head this story is sharing a page with a sidebar about the retirement villa Elvis runs in the Bahamas so you should take that into account before you get mad at fictional journalists.”

Gary grinned down at his father.

“Is that a joint venture with Amelia Earhart and JFK?”

Bucky threw his son a positively adoring smile.

“It is _now_.”

“There’s definitely something wrong with you,” Steph decided, kissing his shoulder. Her husband turned to meet her eyes.

“You don’t mind, though.”

“Have I ever?”

“If I see anybody’s tongue I’m going to barf,” Gary warned them. “And then I’m gonna make Tasha take me to Franklin’s so we can laugh at you guys on TV.”

Bucky laughed softly, forehead brushing Steph’s neck.

“That’s fair,” he agreed blithely. “Fine, no tongue ‘til we’re-”

“Tasha! Make him stop.”

Tasha said nothing, but smiled quite sympathetically from her post. Somewhere out of sight, Tony laughed out loud at something else entirely. Steph kissed her husband’s cheek, patted her son’s hand encouragingly, and closed her eyes in the bosom of her family.

**Author's Note:**

> if the question is BUT WHY the answer is dunno, had angst. also, wanted teenage child to make an appearance because if I wait for the long-form fics to get there _I'll_ have bionic legs and electronic teeth before those kids are teenaged. 
> 
> title from a quote attributed to George Washington, not only because my original impulse was to pick something from Hamilton...


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